John Clare (13 July 1793 – 20 May 1864 / Northamptonshire / England)
Peggy's The Lady Of The Hall
And will she leave the lowly clowns
For silk and satins gay,
Her woollen aprons and drab gowns
For lady's cold array?
And will she leave the wild hedge rose,
The redbreast and the wren,
And will she leave her Sunday beaus
And milk shed in the glen?
And will she leave her kind friends all
To be the Lady of the Hall?
The cowslips bowed their golden drops,
The white thorn white as sheets;
The lamb agen the old ewe stops,
The wren and robin tweets.
And Peggy took her milk pails still,
And sang her evening song,
To milk her cows on Cowslip Hill
For half the summer long.
But silk and satins rich and rare
Are doomed for Peggy still to wear.
But when the May had turned to haws,
The hedge rose swelled to hips,
Peggy was missed without a cause,
And left us in eclipse.
The shepherd in the hovel milks,
Where builds the little wren,
And Peggy's gone, all clad in silks--
Far from the happy glen,
From dog-rose, woodbine, clover, all
To be the Lady of the Hall.
Comments about this poem (Peggy's The Lady Of The Hall by John Clare )
The best paperback
books of 2013
Heart of Darkness and Other Great Works by Joseph Conrad
See the Original Magazine Publication
Samuel R. Delany Has Been Named Grand Master
For 2013 By The Science Fiction And Fantasy Writers Of America
The Best Poetry Books
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe